


The Wolfman

by calicomary



Series: Dreadful Tales of the Supernatural [1]
Category: Penny Dreadful (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-05-29 07:13:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6364483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calicomary/pseuds/calicomary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters resurrect a Victorian era werewolf because reasons and also maybe to stop the Egyptian apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Three Dudes and an Angel in the Desert

**Author's Note:**

> Fair Warning: I stopped watching Supernatural somewhere around the time in season 6 or 7 or whenever Sam falsely claimed he never had the chance to live a normal life until Dean went to Purgatory. I've cherry-picked elements from subsequent seasons like the Men of Letters etc but for the most part this takes place in a nebulous "never was" season of the show. Obviously, they're still trying to prevent the end of the world because when are they not?
> 
> As far as Penny Dreadful goes, there are spoilers for all of the first two seasons and from the trailer for season three it looks like I'm about to go AU there too.

“Dammit!” Dean shoved his hands into his coat pockets and barely suppressed a shiver. “We’re in the desert and it’s 40 degrees. How does that make sense?” he asked.

“Why do you keep asking questions you don’t want me to answer?” Sam replied before blowing warm breath on his hands and vigorously rubbing them together.

“Why do you have to be such a bitch all the time?” Dean asked with a glare.

Sam huffed a laugh and said, “Old school. I like it.”

Dean smirked, then frowned with another shiver. “Cas better hurry his ass up. Feels like my balls are actually trying to climb inside my body.”

“I found him,” Castiel said.

Dean turned in a three-sixty and eyed Castiel skeptically, “You sure about that?” he asked. Taking in the gaping tears and blood spattered on Castiel’s clothing, Dean added a follow-up question. “What the fuck happened?”

Castiel made a noise of displeasure and said, “He…fought me.”

Sam furrowed his brow in confusion, “He fought you? On the way up?” he asked.

“Yes,” Castiel answered tersely.

“And yet he is still not here and I’m freezing my balls off!” Dean grumbled. 

Suddenly, a hand shot up from the dirt at Dean’s feet. Dean stepped back quickly as another hand burst through the ground. 

“Finally,” Dean muttered. He, Sam, and Castiel watched a vicious struggle with frozen earth as a man slowly clawed his way out from the depths of Hell. Once fully above ground, the man slumped onto his side and stopped moving. He had long unkempt hair, an equally unkempt beard, and he was very, very naked. Two tell-tale handprints were visible on the man’s arms. Dean reached out with his foot and nudged the body. “Cas, give me your coat,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Why?” Castiel asked.

“Because I don’t want to risk seeing this guy’s junk when I roll him over,” Dean said. Castiel frowned but removed his coat and handed it to Dean. Dean draped the coat over the man’s waist then slowly rolled him onto his back. Dean pulled his phone out to take a picture of the man’s face which showed every sign of someone in a complete zone out. “I’m sending this to Charlie so she can run it through the asylum’s patient database.” 

Although his eyes were open, the man showed no reaction to the camera flash. Sam came forward and kneeled beside Dan. He tried to get the man’s attention by waving his hand in front of the man’s face. “Hey, can you hear me? What’s your name?” The man continued to stare blankly over Sam’s left shoulder. 

Dean put his phone away and slapped the man on the face.

“Dean! What the hell?” Sam said in exasperation.

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re on a deadline. We don’t have time to pussyfoot around,” Dean said and he slapped the man again, “Snap out of it.”

Suddenly, the man gasped and focused his brown eyes on Sam. He let out a howl and began to thrash wildly. Both Winchesters tried to hold the man down but he had a preternatural strength and managed to push through them and get to his knees. He stumbled a few feet until he ran into Castiel, who put two fingers to the man’s head, causing him to collapse in an angel induced slumber.

Dean got to his feet first and pulled Sam up, “Wake him up,” he said, nodding at the prone body.

Castiel shook his head and said, “That’s not a good idea. As I said, he fought me every step of the way out of Hell. He was like a wild animal. He is nowhere near capable of coherent thought or speech.”

“Seriously?” Dean asked.

Sam tilted his head in thought, then said, ““Well, if you think about it, a hundred and twenty years up here is a little over fourteen thousand down there.”

Dean took a long look at the unconscious man before them. “Well shit,” he said.

 

“I’m not arguing about this,” Dean said later as he rummaged through the trunk’s arsenal. He turned to Castiel, “You said he was acting like a wild animal and you,” Dean turned back to Sam, “Said he was in the Pit for fourteen thousand years. Fourteen. Thousand. Years!” Dean raised his eyebrows for emphasis. “If he didn’t fit in the trunk, I’d strap him to the roof. Once we get back to the bunker, then we can worry about human rights or whatever pc bullshit you’re into. For now, he’s getting the special treatment.” Dean pulled out an enchanted pair of manacles and looked critically at the body before him, “Right after he gets some damn pants.”


	2. Pathetique

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice my chapters are not at all equal in size. They're Kafkaesque that way.

“If you can understand me,” Sam said slowly, “Blink once.” 

“I bet you ten bucks he doesn’t blink,” Dean said, leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed. A few seconds later, without opening his eyes, he said, “You owe me ten bucks. You owe me more than ten bucks. We spent months chasing this Lupus guy down and now we’ve found him and he’s completely useless.”

“He’s not useless,” Sam insisted, “We just need to give him more time to…decompress.” Sam said. Neither of us came back particularly well-adjusted,” Sam pointed out.

Dean opened his eyes and burst away from the wall. “Exactly!” he said, “We were fucked up but at least we weren’t vegetables!” Dean said. 

“I’m not a vegetable,” a voice said softly. 

Both Sam’s and Dean’s eyes swiveled to focus solely on the man in chains before them.

“Yeah?” Dean asked. “What are you?”

The man sighed deeply and said, mostly to himself, “I don’t know. A man? An animal? Some kind of divine monstrosity?” he shook his head and looked up at Dean as if seeing him for the first time, “Who the fuck are you?” He asked.

“I’m Dean Winchester. This is my brother Sam. We’re the guys who….hey! Hello?” Dean snapped his fingers in front of the slack face. “Dammit. Lost him again. That’s what, 3 times now. And he still doesn’t know who the fuck we are.” Dean stood up and pulled out his phone, "I'm calling Charlie again."

Sam sighed and pushed himself to his feet, "She's not gonna get here any faster," he said with a sigh.

"For me she will," Dean said with confidence.


	3. La Malinconia

"Here,” Charlie said and thrust the tablet at Dean, “Take a look at this.” Dean eyed her quizzically but took the tablet and glanced at the image on it. He glanced over to the man in chains then back at what looked to be a hand out from a circus show

“‘The Surest Shot in the West’. Well I wouldn’t say the resemblance is uncanny,” Dean said.

Sam held out a hand and Dean handed the tablet to him. “’Colonel Brewster’s Wild West Show?”

“It’s a Buffalo Bill rip-off. You know, romanticizing and profiting off the genocide of American Indians during Westward expansion, that sort of thing.” Charlie said as she took the tablet back and started swiping through the apps, “Not the best copy-cat but not the worst. The flyer is from a London show in 1891.”

“Ethan Chandler,” Dean rolled the name across his tongue.

“Actually, that was a stage name. He was admitted to Agnews State Hospital on May 3rd, 1893 under his real name, Ethan Lawrence Talbot,” Charlie said with a small grin.

“Heh,” Dean chuckled.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Lawrence Talbot is the main character in the The Wolfman,” Charlie explained. Not sure if this is working

The man, Ethan, jolted to the side with a gasp, the chains around his wrists rattling as they halted his abrupt movement. He stared in puzzlement at the shackles, then at the people standing in front of him. “Who the fuck are you people?” he demanded.

“My name is,” Sam started.

“Sam Winchester, I remember,” Ethan said with a steely glare. He glanced around the room and asked, “Where am I?”

“That’s not how this works,” Dean said. “See, you’re the guy in chains which means we ask the questions. What do you know about the Devil’s Bible?”

“I don’t…”Ethan trailed off and started to gaze into the middle distance.

“Alright I give up!” Dean said, throwing his hands in the air. “Let’s just go back to square one with Kevin.”

Suddenly, Ethan broke into a chant unintelligible to Dean's ears.

“What the hell is he saying?” Dean asked Sam.

“How should I know?” Sam asked back.

Dean gave Sam a critical look, “Do you really need me to say it. Fine. Your Latin is better than mine.”

“That’s not Latin,” Sam said.

“Hang on” Charlie said swiping her tablet on, “I have a language app.” She took a step towards Ethan but Dean blocked her. Charlie ducked around him. “Stand down soldier. The guy’s locked up and you’re two feet away. I think we’ve got the situation under control.” She held the tablet closer to Ethan so the microphone could pick up his voice. He only spoke a few more verses before lapsing into silence. “How long has he been like this?”

“Like this?” Dean asked waving a hand at Ethan, “The first twelve hours were a bitch and, in retrospect, leaving him in the trunk while Sam and I stopped at a roadside diner was a very poor decision. When we got here he was like that,” Dean pointed at Ethan’s slack face. “He comes out of it randomly but he never remembers who we are or where he is or even what he is. That monologue is new.”

“He remembered us this time,” Sam said. “So what does the app say?”

Charlie frowned at the tablet and shook her head, “Language not found. I know I heard Greek…or something that sounded Greek. I have a better question” she said, “What the frak is the Devil’s Bible?”  
“It’s a myth,” Castiel said.

“Woah!” Charlie squeaked as she jumped away from the angel who had appeared suddenly. “Give a girl some warning,” she told him.

Castiel tiled his head in confusion, “I ruffled my feathers,” he said in his defense.

“Doesn’t sound mythical to me,” Dean said. “It does sound incomprehensible. So I’m going to call Kevin, now,” he pulled out his phone and pointed it, “and see if I can get some actual, useful information about closing the gate of Hell.”

“So?” Charlie looked to Sam for information, “Devil’s Bible?”

“I was doing some research on the Egyptian apocalypse and I read an excerpt from a manuscript written in 1897 by an Egyptologist named Ferdinand Lyle,” Sam said.

“Now we have to stop the Egyptian apocalypse?” Charlie asked, “Should I start prepping for Ragnarok next?”

“No,” Sam assured her, “There isn’t going to be an Egyptian apocalypse.”

“Then why were you doing research about it?” Charlie asked.

“Because he’s a nerd!” Dean said from across the room as he closed his phone. “No offense.”

Sam ground his teeth in frustration, “The point is,” he said, “he described a series of relics that told an autobiography of Lucifer’s fall from heaven. He called it the Devil’s Bible. Lyle said there was a repeated reference to Lupus Dei.”

“And?” Charlie prompted.

“And this,” Castiel said, gesturing at Ethan, “is Lupus Dei, The Wolf of God.”

Charlie looked at the catatonic man. “Him?” she said uncertainly and took a cautious step back. “What’s the Wolf of God?”

“He’s a minor Beast,” Castiel explained, “I found him in the seventh circle of Hell tearing profligates apart. This is his human form. As the name implies, his animal form is more…wolfish.” Castiel nodded to himself, satisfied with his description.

“So he’s a werewolf,” Sam said and turned to Dean, “What did Kevin have to say?”

“Well this just gets better and better,” Dean said as he walked back over and pocketed his cell phone. “He says Lupus Dei does show up but it’s random. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe it’s a warning,” Charlie said. “Like Bad Wolf.”

“Maybe,” Dean said. “Did I just hear werewolf?” At Sam’s not he muttered, ”Perfect. Ok, I’m gonna give this guy one last shot to-“

“What phase is it?” Ethan asked as his head shot up.

“What?” Everyone asked.

Ethan swallowed and said, “The moon, what phase is it?”

“Waning,” Charlie said. “It was a Full Moon 3 days ago.”

“Good,” Ethan said and shut his eyes. “You’ve got roughly 24 days to decide what to do with me. I would ask that you give me a shirt if you plan to keep me alive. It’s indecent to be in such company half-naked.” He slid down the wall to rest on his back.

It was silent in the cell for a significantly awkward period of time. Charlie slowly crept over to Dean and whispered, “So if this is really Ethan Talbot then that means-”  
“That in 1891 there was an American werewolf in London,” Dean finished.

“And my favorite piece of horror fiction is set in the Victorian period,” Charlie continued. “Which makes this, like, ultra-meta.”


	4. An die ferne Geliebte

“Look all I’m saying,” Sam said 24 days later as they drove back to the bunker, “is don’t be a dick.”

“I wasn’t a dick the first time!” Dean shot back defensively. 

Sam turned to face Dean more fully from the Impala’s passenger side, “Yeah, actually, you kind of were,” he said shortly. He turned back slightly to face the road. “I mean, I get it. You were frustrated and sometimes when you’re frustrated you get a little…judgmental.”

Dean scoffed at the suggestion. “I don’t get judgmental,” he said, “I get self-righteous. Besides, I’m much more relaxed with that hunt under our belt.” 

“Don’t you think it’s a little weird that hunting has become your go-to stress relief?” Sam asked.

“You know, I could go back to my old ways and seek comfort in pussy but I always got the impression that you didn’t appreciate that sort of thing interrupting your beauty sleep,” Dean suggested with a smirk.

“Whatever man," Sam said with a shrug. His cellphone chimed with a text message and Sam pulled it out of his coat pocket. “Shit.” 

“What?” Dean asked, glancing over to Sam.

“We’re late,” Sam said. He started typing a response, deleted it, typed another response, and deleted that one too. “How long until we get back?” he asked.

“’Bout an hour,” Dean said. "Why?"

“They made dinner and it’s getting cold.” Sam said and started typing again.

Dean’s eyes bugged a little, “They made dinner?”

“Apparently,” Sam said. “I told Charlie we’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”

Dean grinned and put the pedal to the metal, “I like a challenge.”  
**

“Ha!” Dean said as he sauntered through the bunker’s door, “Forty-four minutes. I think I deserve a beer for that.”

“So, you bitches finally decided to show up,” Charlie said, shrugging into her jacket.

“Yeah, sorry,” Sam said.

“As I recall you are the one who said you’d be here at 6. You are officially one hour and fifteen minutes overdue,” she said, her voice holding a significant tone of annoyance.

“What?” Dean asked, “You’ve never heard of being fashionably late?”

Charlie gave Dean and the takeout bag he was carrying a particularly withering glare, “We made dinner. I baked cookies.” Dean brightened at the sound of cookies but his hopes were dashed quickly, “We ate them all. I got a little sick afterwards but it was totally worth it. Anyway,” Charlie said as she grabbed a notebook off the table and thrust it at Sam’s chest, “Some reading material while you wait it out with Mr. Chandler. I’m heading out for the night.”

Sam took the book from her. “Where to?” he asked, “And where are Ethan and Kevin?”

“Kevin’s passed out. I don’t think he was expecting to crash that hard from the sugar rush. Mr. Chandler is in the dungeon waiting for you,” Charlie said. She fished her keys out of her pocket and headed toward the door. Whirling around and walking backwards, Charlie continued, “I’ve got an errand to run. Booty calls.”

Dean kept staring at the door after she had closed it then he snapped his fingers, “Oh I get it. It’s a pun,” he said.

“What?” Sam asked.

“’Booty calls’ sounds like ‘duty calls.’ That’s a pun, right?” Dean asked.

“Uh. Sure,” Sam said. He flipped open the cover of the book Charlie had given him. “Didn’t she say Chandler was his stage name?”

“Yeah. And what’s with the Mister crap?” Dean asked. He waved that issue aside and turned Sam toward the lower level, “Let’s go say hello.”  
**

Dean almost didn’t recognize the man standing by the door. The massive mane Ethan had been sporting when they first met was gone. His beard had been trimmed very close to the skin and his hair was cut so that it was just long enough tuck behind his ears. It was his wardrobe that caught Dean’s eye though.

“Wow,” Dean said. He waved a hand at the suspenders. “You, uh. You go outside in those things?”

“Yes." Ethan said gruffly, "But I do my best to wear a shirt over them when I go outside." He closed the watch he had been checking and stowed it in the pocket of his trousers. “Took your fucking time,” he nodded his head toward the cell .Once all three had entered, Ethan promptly walked over to the set of enchanted shackles that had been built into the wall. “One of you has to lock these. I tried doing it my self but...There’s a gun on the table with a silver bullet. I thought it wise to have at least one precaution,” He said wryly.

Dean cocked an eyebrow, “Just one bullet?” he asked as he picked up the belt holster and the revolver inside. He checked the barrel. 

Ethan did a test pull on the chains once they were secure and said, “If you need more than one you deserve to get killed.” Sam snorted a laugh at this and Dean shot him an accusatory glare.

Ethan looked around the room restlessly until his eyes came to rest on the eastern wall. “I wish I could see the moon. It’s a little disconcerting not to-“Ethan cut off with a gasp and collapsed to all fours. As his fingers began clawing at the floor, he looked up at Dean. There was a steely despair that Dean recognized, though he couldn’t recall exactly where. “Don’t hesitate.” Ethan said. Then he threw his head back with a scream and began to shift. 

It looked painful and end result was unlike any werewolf Dean had hunted or begrudgingly let live. Instead, Ethan looked more like The Wolfman from the old movies although less gimmicky and more feral. The creature leaped at Dean with a snarl and Dean stuttered back a step even though the chains ensured a safe distance between monster and man.  
Dean took a closer look at the gun in his hand. He let out a low whistle. “Check this out,” he said and held the gun up. “It’s a Colt Cattleman. Probably nickel plated. Starting price is 450 bucks. What’s in the book?”

Sam had started flipping through the pages, “It’s a journal. _October 1891, London. I was approached by Miss Vanessa Ives after she saw one of my performances in Colonel Brewster’s show. She had need of a hired gun and, though I enjoyed the peripatetic nature of the theatrical life, it is not the most reliable source of income _.” Sam took a breath and was about to continue when a particularly loud growl cut him off. His eyes followed Ethan as the werewolf began to prowl back and forth.__

“I don’t like the way he’s looking at you,” Dean said.

“Yeah…neither do I“ Sam said and started backing towards the door.

The growling and snarling were muted considerably on the other side of the wall.

“He’s a little more Teen Wolf than werewolf,” Dean said. He twirled the gun around his finger then whipped it up to point at an imaginary foe down the hall. 

Kevin walked around the corner at just that moment and threw his hands in the air. “Don’t shoot,” He said. Dean put the gun back in its holster and buckled it around his waist. 

Kevin stepped closer to the cell door and listened to the savage growls and grunts. “So he changed, huh?”

Sam looked at Kevin quizzically, “Were you expecting something else?” he asked.

“No,” Kevin said with a shrug. “Charlie’s really pissed at you guys. Fair warning, she's on Team Ethan.”

“Team Ethan!" Dean said incredulously. "What team are you on?” he asked Kevin with a suspicious look.

“Actually, I’m on Team Vanessa,” Kevin said.

“Vanessa Ives,” Sam said, “The woman in the journal. Who is she?”

Kevin heaved a sigh. “It’s…complicated. Come on, I saved both of you a cookie.” He turned and started walking back down the hall.

“Team Ethan,” Dean muttered as he brushed by Sam.

“Let it go,” Sam said gently. “You can have my cookie if you want.”


	5. Nigh on Bald Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin and Dean and Sam talk some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick thanks for the kudos and comment. If you haven't started watching Penny Dreadful yet, get on it. The dialogue is much better than what I have here.

“Ok first of all, what does perapathetic mean?” Dean asked as they walked into the kitchen.

“It’s peripatetic,” Sam corrected him. “And I have no idea what it means.”

“Peripatetic: adjective,” Kevin recited as he read off of his phone, “Traveling from place to place, especially working or based in various places for relatively short periods. Synonyms are wandering, roving, and itinerant.” Kevin walked to the fridge and waggled his phone at Sam and Dean, “You’ll want to keep Google handy when you’re reading that journal. Also whenever you’re talking to Mr. Chandler in general.”

“You too with the ‘Mister Chandler?”” Dean asked.

Kevin shrugged and handed a cookie to Sam and Dean each. “It’s what he likes to be called,” he said simply.

Dean took a bite of his cookie and asked, “So who is Vanessa Ives?”

“She is a very nice Victorian lady. She also might be an Egyptian goddess. Or the bride of Satan. Maybe both.” Kevin said.

Sam’s eyebrows crawled into his hairline, “Seriously?”

“That’s what Mr. Chandler says. He also says that she’s the one who was supposed to start the apocalypse back in the 1890s. None of the tablets say anything about her, though, Kevin explained. “You see what I mean by complicated?”

“What does Cas say?” Dean asked. He held out his hand to Sam and Sam handed him the other cookie. 

Kevin chuckled humorlessly, “Cas doesn’t like to talk about it. Like at all. He can barely stand being in the same room. Besides, I think he still has angel problems to deal with. Anyway,” Kevin pulled a different cell phone out of his pocket. He held the phone out to Sam, “I’m putting you in charge of this.”

Sam took the phone and eyed it warily, “Okay…”

“If anyone calls that isn’t me or Charlie tell them they have the wrong number. I’ll see you guys in the morning” Kevin said.

Dean stared at the doorway after Kevin had left. He turned to look at Sam, who was tucking Ethan’s cell phone in his back pocket. “Ok. What the fuck? This is our bunker. We’re the ones who get to order people around!”

“Well,” Sam said thoughtfully, “We are the ones who ordered Charlie and Kevin to keep an eye on the guy while we went on a…hunt-cation. Besides-” Sam broke off as the phone in his pocket started ringing. He pulled it out and looked at the caller ID.

“Give it to me, I’ll answer it,” Dean said and held out his hand for the phone.

“What? No, you heard what Kevin said,” Sam said.

“Our bunker, our rules,” Dean said and shook his hand emphatically.

“Touché,” Sam said and gave up the phone.

Dean glanced at the caller ID, “Hello Tracy…Yeah. Yeah this is Ethan.” Dean smirked at Sam. “Well I’ve been wearing this tight pair of leather pants all day and they’re really starting to chafe so,” Dean cut off since Tracy apparently had something very important to say. A slow flush started to crawl up Dean’s neck, “Uh, sorry, wrong number.” Dean muttered. He smashed the end call button and threw the phone across the room.

Sam did a double take from the phone to Dean. “What the hell was that?” Sam asked.

“Tracy,” Dean said. He swallowed thickly, “She uh, she has a...set of boundaries that I’m not comfortable with.”

“Wow. That is literally something I never thought I would hear you say about a woman,” Sam said.

Dean cleared his throat, “Whatever. So…peripatetic.”

“Makes sense. If he’s tied to the lunar cycle then having a job that moves around would definitely be helpful,” Sam said as he flipped the book back open and continued reading. _“So I came into the employment of Sir Malcom Murray. Sir Malcom was searching for his daughter, who, I was given to understand, had been bewitched by a creature of what Miss Ives described as a supernatural world that exists between the earthly realm and Hell. She called it the Demimonde.” ___


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed in the previous chapters that most of the time spent is characters just talking about stuff. I hope you're in to that sort of thing because here is more of it.

“ _It wasn’t much of a prayer but it was Latin and it did the job well enough _.” Sam closed the book with a thunk. He looked across the table at Dean expectantly but his brother appeared to be relaxed in a light doze. Sam frowned at this and said, “The End.”__

__Dean’s eyes snapped open, “That’s it?” he asked._ _

__“Until we can talk to him yeah, that’s it. You know, he’s a really good writer,” Sam said._ _

__Dean cocked an eyebrow at that statement, “Uh huh. Riveting.” He stood up from the table twisted side to side, popping the kinks in his back. “Did I hear that last bit right?”_ _

__Sam stretched his arms above his head with a yawn, “You mean exorcising the Devil with a two-bit Latin prayer? Yeah, you heard that right.”_ _

__“And the part about Mina Harker, Dr. Frankenstein, and Dorian Grey??” Dean asked._ _

__“That too,” Sam said._ _

__“That’s weird, right? Even for us?” Dean asked as he checked the time._ _

__“An American werewolf in London was hanging out with multiple characters from Victorian and Gothic horror novels? Yes, that’s weird, even for us,” Sam said. He stifled a yawn with his fist. “Is it even close to morning?”_ _

__“Sunrise is in 45 minutes. It’s gonna be nice to have a conversation longer than 3 minutes with this guy. Maybe ask him about that two-bit Latin prayer,” Dean stood and grabbed the journal._ _

__When they got down to the cell, the beastly howls and snarls had faded. Dean grasped the door handle with one hand and pulled out the silver loaded colt with the other. He handed the gun to Sam and motioned him to the other side of the door so Sam could enter, gun drawn._ _

__Sam relaxed as soon as he caught sight of Ethan._ _

__“He’s asleep. I think,” Sam said as he stepped across the threshold with Dean following on his heels. Sure enough, Ethan, back in his human form, was sprawled in an ungainly heap on the floor._ _

__Suddenly, Ethan jerked awake with a gasp and the chains rattled as he struggled to free himself. Then, as if overcome with intense pain, he squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deeply through his nose. This seemed to having a calming effect since Ethan soon opened his eyes in clarity. He sat up slowly and nodded to Sam, then down at his shackled wrists, “Please.”_ _

__Sam put the gun on the table and went to unlock the chains. “Christ!” Sam said when he got a closer look at the evidence of the night’s struggle on Ethan’s wrists. “That goes straight to the bone.”_ _

__Ethan looked disinterestedly at the deep furrows that had been cut into the flesh of his arms, “They’ll be fine in a few hours,” he said hoarsely. Once his hands were free, Ethan got to his feet. He stood jerkily as if he wasn’t quite used to being back in his own skin. He stumbled towards the doorway but Dean stepped into his path. Ethan gave Dean a measuring stare. “Mr. Winchester you’re standing between me and a very important bottle of whiskey and if you do not remove your person from my path then I will kindly remove it for you,” he said with a grim smile._ _

__Dean met Ethan’s stare head on. “I’d like to see you try.”_ _

__“Dean!” Sam said as he came to stand by Ethan’s side._ _

__“Sam!” Dean said in a warning tone._ _

__“Remember that talk we had in the car yesterday? About not being a dick,” Sam said._ _

__Dean had a very intense and obvious internal debate. “Fine!” he said, stepping aside so Ethan could pass. The other man nearly created a breeze as he whisked by. He moved fast enough that even Sam had to widen his stride to keep pace. Dean glanced at Sam, “Must be good whiskey. Hey, Ethan,” he called ahead, “You know where you’re going right?”_ _

__“Yes, Mr. Winchester. I have been living here for several weeks now.” Ethan said shortly. After a pause he added, “And I would prefer it if you called me Mr. Chandler.”_ _

__Dean snorted, “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. And you can stop calling me Mr. Winchester. I’m Dean, this is Sam, and you’re Ethan.”_ _

__At this, Ethan turned sharply on his heel and shouted, “We are not intimate!”_ _

__Sam and Dean stood awkwardly for a few seconds. They glanced at each other before saying in unison, “Uh. What?”_ _

__Ethan took a deep breath to try and calm himself. It didn’t seem to work particularly well but his next words did come out in a less angry tone, “We are not intimate. We are not friends or companions or even compatriots and I have no doubt that but for the fact that I may be of some use to you, you would not hesitate to put a silver bullet in my heart. We are associates and as such there ought to be a distance. A certain,” Ethan paused for emphasis, “deferential distance. So I will call both of you Mr. Winchester and you will call me Mr. Chandler.”_ _

__Sam asked the obvious question, “What if you only want to talk one of us?”_ _

__Ethan grinned wryly, “How many occasions do you think there will be that I would only want to talk to one of you?”_ _

__Dean asked the less obvious question, “What’s deferential mean?”_ _

__Ethan turned and continued his brisk walk, “Look it up,” he tossed over his shoulder._ _

__Dean groaned and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Deferential: Showing or expressing deference. Synonyms are dutiful, regardful, or obsequious. Great, now I’m even more confused.”_ _

__“Pick up the pace, Mr. Winchester, there’s drink involved,” Ethan said, turning down the hallway which led to the bedrooms._ _

__Ethan nearly took the door off its hinges when he burst into his room. He made a beeline towards a rolling cart in the far corner of the room. There was an empty decanter and four tumblers, of which Ethan grabbed three and set them down roughly on the writing desk occupying the opposite wall. Out of the bottom drawer of the desk Ethan pulled a bottle of Wild Turkey Bourbon. His hand shook slightly as he poured, the bottle clinking lightly against the rim of the glasses. Ethan handed a glass to Sam and a glass to Dean. Ethan tossed back his liquor and had already filled a second glass by the time Sam and Dean had swigged their own._ _

__As Ethan began to pour his third shot, Sam cleared his throat and said, “You think maybe you should go easy on that?”_ _

__Ethan shook his head as slugged back his fourth round, “Nope.”_ _

__“Come on,” Dean argued, “You haven’t even had breakfast yet.”_ _

__“This is breakfast,” Ethan said simply. By the time he set his glass on the table for the seventh time Ethan had lost his harried look. He turned to the closet and pulled out a button down shirt and vest. Once he had fully dressed and clipped his pocket watch to his vest he gave Dean’s waist a pointed look and said, “May I have that back?”_ _

__Dean looked down at the gun belt he was sporting, “Oh. Yeah,” he said, unbuckling it and handing it over to Ethan. “That’s a nice piece by the way.”_ _

__“Piece of what?” Ethan asked. He took the gun out and exchanged the silver bullet for 6 regular bullets he pulled from a case on the side table. Once loaded, he stowed the revolver back in its holster and hung the belt on the back of the desk chair._ _

__“Your gun. It’s a Colt Cattleman, right? Is that nickel plated?” Dean asked with interest._ _

__Ethan nodded, “It is.”_ _

__“That what you used for the sharp shooting?” Dean asked eager to carry on any conversation regarding firearms._ _

__“No, for the show I used a pair of Cattleman Specials. The nickel wasn’t painted over like this and they had ivory grips so when you held them up,” Ethan paused and raised one hand, holding an imaginary gun against an imaginary sky, “They’d sparkle in the sunlight.”_ _

__“You know we have a gun range?” Dean asked._ _

__Ethan chuckled, “Yes. That was the first stop on Miss Bradbury’s tour of this place. She was very excited to see me shoot.”_ _

__“Oh God,” Sam said in horror._ _

__“What?” Dean asked. He followed Sam’s terrified gaze towards the bookshelf. Among the volumes of poetry, history, and Shakespeare, was an entire shelf devoted to the Supernatural book series. “Where did you get those?”_ _

__“Miss Bradbury gave them to me. She said they’re based on you two and your...adventures,” Ethan explained._ _

__“Did you read…all of them?” Dean asked warily._ _

__Ethan snorted at the suggestion, “God no. I couldn’t get past the first chapter. They’re really very poorly written. I decided to skip a few books ahead because one would expect that after a certain amount of practice an author might improve upon his craft but Mr. Edlund defies expectation. Honestly, they’re worse than penny dreadfuls, which I had once credited as the lowest form of literature,” Ethan shook his head in disappointment and growled softly in displeasure at the memory of trying to slog through Ghost Facers._ _

__A knock sounded on the door and all three men turned to face Kevin. “Morning, Mr. Chandler,” Kevin said._ _

__“Good morning, Mr. Tran,” Ethan smiled, “Would you like some breakfast?” he nodded at the whiskey bottle._ _

__Kevin shook his head at the offer and said, “I’d rather have real breakfast.”_ _

__“Pancakes and coffee, then.” Ethan suggested._ _

__“That sounds like a plan,” Kevin said._ _


	7. Chapter 7

“Oh hey! I got you something,” Dean went over to the fridge and pulled out the to-go bag he had brought last night. “To, uh, say sorry for being late.”

“It’s not really me you need to apologize to,” Ethan said taking the bag and opening t to look inside, “Miss Bradbury was-Jesus Christ!” he dropped the bag in disgust. “What the fuck are those?”

“Chicken hearts,” Dean said. “If they’re too cold you can heat it up on the stove.”

“I’m not,” Ethan paused as his stomach heaved but he swallowed it down. “I’m not eating those.” He said roughly.

“Look,” Sam said in his most reasonable voice, “You’ve gotta be hungry after last night and, no offense, but human hearts aren’t on the menu.”

Ethan looked between Sam and Dean as if they had lost their minds, then said slowly, “I do not eat hearts. Human, chicken, or otherwise.”

“But your transformations are tied to the lunar cycle so you’re not a pureblood,” Sam said, perplexed.

Dean finished his thought, “What kind of werewolf are you?”

Ethan held his breath as he bent to retrieve the offending paper bag. After disposing of it in the trash can, he turned to face Dean and Sam. “I’m not a werewolf, I am the Wolf of God. Or do you fail to recall the circumstances of my resurrection? Though, in fact, that would not surprise me one bit given that all of our previous interactions have been marked by your distinct lack of consideration.”

“I think pulling your ungrateful ass out of Hell was pretty damn considerate,” Dean said testily.

Ethan tilted his head to the side as he put the pieces together. “You believe I owe you gratitude for 'raising me from Perdition'?” he asked.

“Well... yeah,” Sam said as if it were obvious. 

Ethan nodded, “I suppose that’s not an unreasonable assumption considering your own experiences with that realm. It’s different for me.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

“Because in Hell I had a purpose and, gruesome as it was, I only ever hurt sinners. Up here,” Ethan gestured around the room as if to encompass the whole world, “I’m just a monster who has more chance of hurting innocent people than those who deserve it. Mr. Tran you’re in charge of coffee.”

“I’m on it,” Kevin said, grabbing the can of grounds and plugging in the coffee machine. “How strong?”

“Make it as strong as you can stand it. I just drank half a bottle of whiskey,” Ethan said. He started rummaging around a cabinet pulling out flour, sugar, and salt, “Do you like chocolate chips in your pancakes Mr. Winchester?”

“Yeah,” Sam and Dean said together. Dean frowned and resisted the urge to call jinx. “We have the mix, too. It’s easier” He said 

“I know,” Ethan said, getting milk and a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. “I prefer my mother’s recipe. Besides, it was easy to begin with.” He grabbed the “Kiss the Chef” apron and put it on. 

“Fair enough,” Dean said. He tried not to look too interested as Ethan started making the batter. 

As he began to stir the mixture, Ethan said softly, “I wasn’t born this way. I wasn’t bitten either.”

“So what happened?” Sam asked and took a seat at the table.

Ethan turned on the stove and set a frying pan on it. He scooped an unhealthy about of butter into the pan and turned around to explain, “I was cursed by a Chiracauha Apache shaman. I’m Catholic by upbringing and at the time I foolishly believed that my faith in God would protect me. It was full moon that night.” After he finished speaking Ethan stood silent, lost in thought. Then he turned back to the stove and started scooping pancake batter into the frying pan.

By the time the Ethan had served up four plates of pancakes, Kevin had passed around four mugs of coffee. The table lapsed into silence that was only interrupted by the sound of cutlery clinking and grown men eating.

“Mmm, wow, these are really, really good.” Dean said appreciatively right before stuffing the last giant bite of pancake in his mouth.

“Thank you,” Ethan said and took a sip of his coffee. “I suppose now would be a good time to talk terms.”

Sam swallowed his food slowly, “Terms?” he asked.

“The particulars of my employment, specifically my remittance,” Ethan said.

Sam raised an eyebrow, “Remittance?”

Dean looked up from his phone, “You want us to pay, you?” he said in disbelief.

“Well I don’t work for free,” Ethan said with a smirk. “Or were you really expecting me to be so overwhelmed with gratitude I’d offer you my services without any compensation?” he looked from 

Sam to Dean and saw the confirmation in their faces. “Ok. I’ll say a number and you tell me what you think.”

“Look, we’ll set you up with a credit card,” Dean said, “I’m surprised Charlie hasn’t already.”

“She offered to but I declined. My understanding is that c credit cards can be traced and I would like to stay under the grid,” Ethan said.

“It’s off the grid,” Kevin corrected.

“Off the grid,” Ethan said. “And under the radar. So I’ll take payment in cash. One hundred and fifty dollars a week.”

“No way,” Dean said.

“It’s a fair price, Dean,” Kevin said. “Even with inflation that’s a third of what he was getting from Sir Malcolm.”

“Kevin, if you don’t get paid,” Dean said, thrusting a finger at Kevin’s chest and then pointing over to Ethan, “Then he doesn’t get paid.”

Ethan smiled at this, “Well, now that you’ve brought it up, I’ll say my piece in that matter, too. Mr. Tran ought to receive compensation, as well.”

“I think we’ve gotten a little off track here,” Sam said patiently. “What services does the hundred dollars cover?”

“I’ll tell you everything I can recall about our dealings with the Devil and I’ll help with any related research,” Ethan said simply, leaning back in his chair, “I’ll also be a gunman for you. And three days off each week.”

“Woah,” Dean said, “Nobody gets three days off, not even in Sweden. One day a week. And if it’s an emergency, you come when we call.”

“Deal,” Ethan said and stuck his hound out for Dean to shake, “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Do you have my cellphone?”

“Yeah,” Sam said and he pulled the phone out of his pocket. 

Ethan checked the call log and frowned, “Tracy called.”

Dean choked on his coffee and had to bang himself on the chest a few times before speaking, “Yeah. She, uh…she called. Got quite an imagination.”

“She’s incapable of taking no for an answer,” Ethan said with a shake of his head. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s a good fuck, but she’s not worthy of an encore, if you get my meaning. Shall we movie to the library?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of standing around and talking in this one, too. I think I will be writing a sequel, especially since the new season of Penny Dreadful has started and is stirring the creative juices again. Let me know if you'd be frustrated having to read more of this "standing and talking" or would rather it get straight to the plot.
> 
> Also, who thinks that Chuck Shurley singing Dink's Song on May The Fourth was a nod to Star Wars, Oscar Isaac, the Coen Brothers, or all three (or none of the above)? Obviously, it had significance to the episode itself but I can't help but wonder if they might have chosen a less obscure song were it not for Inside Llewyn Davis.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little more conversation, a little less action is what I need.

“Did you read the journal?” Ethan asked, leaning against a bookshelf. “I’d hoped to finish it before the transformation but some memories have been more difficult to recall than others.”

“Yeah, we read it,” Sam said. “I have a couple questions about the exorcism, actually.”

“Fire when ready” Ethan said.

“Do you really think it was Lucifer that possessed Vanessa, um, Miss Ives?” he asked.

Ethan nodded, “Miss Ives thought so and she is,” he paused. “She _was _something of an expert,” he said.__

__“You said you used a saint’s medal. Which saint?” Sam’s curiosity had been piqued ever since he read that brief description._ _

__“St. Jude,” Ethan’s simple answer provoked stunned silence from the three other men._ _

__“Wait,” Dean said slowly, “You’re telling me that you exorcised Lucifer by invoking the patron saint of lost causes?!”_ _

__Ethan shrugged, “We’d already tried everything else.”_ _

__“That is so badass,” Kevin said in admiration. “Tell them about the London Zoo.”_ _

__“That is a story for another time Mr. Tran. We have work to do,” Ethan said. He moved to a desk with a stack of books piled on it and grabbed the top one, passing it to Sam. “Miss Ives believed she was being pursued by Satan. Our friend, Mr. Lyle, believed it was something else. Something older.”_ _

__Sam opened the book and turned to the page that had been marked, “Amun Ra is considered to be the father and protector of Egyptian pharaohs. During the New Kingdom the first wife of every pharaoh was also bestowed with the title of God’s Wife of Amun.” Sam looked up from the book. “Amaunet.”_ _

__“I thought Amaunet was married to Apophis. They had a son named…Harsey-something,” Dean said._ _

__“No, Dean that’s,” Sam said. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, “That’s from Stargate SG-1.”_ _

__Dean nodded slowly, “Yeah. I remember that now.”_ _

__Ethan continued, “The creature that bewitched Sir Malcom’s daughter did it so he could get close to Miss Ives. Now, I never laid eyes on him, myself, but I’d wager heavily that his skin was covered in hieroglyphs from the Egyptian Book of the Dead, specifically a passage about Amaunet, the Mother of Evil. So Mr. Lyle’s conclusion was that it was in fact the god Amun Ra who was pursuing Miss Ives.”_ _

__“So which one was it, Lucifer or Amun Ra?” Sam asked._ _

__“According to Father Gregory’s testimony, both.” Ethan said. He pulled a notebook off the table and handed it to Dean, “This actually came back to me rather, quickly.”_ _

__“What is it?” Dean asked, frowning at the handwritten paragraph._ _

__“Exactly what you wanted,” Ethan said. “The Devil’s Bible.”_ _

__Dean threw a glance Sam’s way, then cleared his throat and began to read aloud, “In the Great War for the heavenly throne we were vanquished. So God looked down on his defeated angels and found us to be evil angels, so he cast us out. He took us by our winged backs and raised us over his head. Thence did he fling us from his Heavenly throne and cast us down to Earth and to Hell so we were cleaved apart, two brothers, cast out to two realms. One brother to Earth and the other brother to Hell. And thus were we set in eternal enmity, my brother on Earth to feed on the blood of the living by night and myself in Hell to feed on the souls of the dead. Both in an eternal quest for the Mother of Evil who will release us from our bondage and allow one of us to reconquer heaven and topple God from his bloody throne. And so will a Darkness reign on Earth, in Heaven, everlasting.”_ _

__“Wow,” Kevin said. “I’ve never heard the whole thing read out completely. It’s kind of menacing in first person point-of-view”_ _

__“Ok,” Dean said and he handed the notebook back to Ethan, “This is kind of blowing my mind,” he turned to Sam, “If that is supposed to be how the world ends then what the fuck have we been doing?”_ _

__“Well, obviously we’ve been stopping a different apocalypse,” Sam said and he shut the book he was holding. “But you exorcised Miss Ives.”_ _

__Ethan shook his head, “That wasn’t the end of it. We found Miss Harker and another one of those creatures. They both died and the Master, the one you call Dracula, stopped his pursuit of Miss Ives. Lucifer or Amun-Ra or whoever-the-fuck he really is, wasn’t finished with her. He again tried to draw her into his spider’s web but she is, she was, a rather resilient scorpion and she defeated him for a second time.” Ethan paused, clearly having an internal debate about what to say, “I couldn’t say what happened next. I went back to America, spent several lonely years at Agenws, and then I died.”_ _

__“Well, we do know two things,” Sam said and he listed them on his finger. “Lucifer is in the Cage with Michael and Dracula is basically historical fiction.” Sam looked around the bookshelves, “Shit,” he said after coming to a realization._ _

__“What?” Dean asked also looking around the room but not seeing whatever Sam saw._ _

__“We need to find out if someone ever killed Dracula,” Sam said._ _

__Dean made a face, “Aw, come on. Research? Now?”_ _

__“Look, Dean. If he’s still out there then he’s still hunting for the Mother of Evil so he can he can take over Heaven. So we need to hit the books” Sam said._ _

__“Actually,” Ethan said, “I have a better idea. When was the last time you watched Star Wars?”_ _

__“I don’t know,” Sam said. “Back when I was in college so…wow...that was ten years ago.”_ _

__Dean clapped Sam on the back, “Welcome to the Just-Realized-I’m- Actually-In-My-Thirties club. Last time I saw Star Wars was May 1st, 2008.”_ _

__“I saw it for the first time two days ago and it was quite thrilling,” Ethan said. “I’d like watch it again before Miss Bradbury comes back and then we can all watch The Empire Strikes back. I haven’t seen that one, yet.”_ _

__“Don’t you think we have more pressing issues to deal with?” Sam asked. He looked to Dean for backup but it was clear Dean was not going to side with him on this one. “Dracula could be out there, right now, charming his way into some woman’s soul and bringing on the Darkness.”_ _

__“If he is still alive one hundred and twenty years later, I doubt one day will make a difference,” Ethan said. “Besides, it’s Star Wars. Miss Bradbury says that’s reason enough.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is totally, officially AU from Penny Dreadful


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things are resolved. Kind of.

“What the fuck kind of ending is that?” Ethan said as the credits rolled. “You can’t just end a film without any resolution! Where’s the dénouement?”

“Relax, big guy,” Dean said, standing to stretch his legs, “It’s a trilogy. What’d’ya say, Miss Bradbury, should we pop in Return of the Jedi?”

“I’m always down for some slave-bikini Leia,” She said with a wink. “And you can just call me Charlie,” she said. 

“Wait, aren’t we supposed to watch Phantom Menace now?” Sam asked.

“No!” Dean and Charlie said together.

“I thought you’re supposed to watch Episode One after Episodes 4 and 5,” Sam said.

Ethan frowned, “Did we not just watch the first two episodes?” he asked.

“We watched the first two parts,” Dean explained. “Star Wars isn’t really a series. It’s more of a saga. The first trilogy was made over 30 years ago then in the ‘90s—the 1990s—the prequels came out. They were a total shit-show,” he said in disgust. 

“They weren’t that bad,” Sam said. Both Dean and Charlie threw disappointed looks at him.

“Let me ask you this,” Charlie said, “What would you rather learn more about, why Anakin Skywalker turned to the Dark Side or what happened to Han Solo?”

Ethan pondered the query, “I believe I am more interested in what happens to Han. Although, the story of Darth Vader has piqued my interest as well.”

“I’ll just tell you the spoilers later and that way you don’t have to sit through three shitty movies,” Dean said magnanimously.

After the final credits of Return of the Jedi rolled, everyone agreed they probably ought to get back to work to stop the end of the world. They made their way library

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, ending in a similar to fashion to my other ridiculous crossover between Breaking Bad and The Avengers, this story has come to an abrupt ending because of real life aspirations. I still have the first bit of the next act but I find it hard to believe I'll return to it. I would like to share a couple bits of head canon.  
> Ethan auditioned for a role in the Transformed Man and he is also a fan of Beethoven. He has helped Charlie on two hunts and is thinking about getting a bicycle because he refuses to drive after that one time.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a completed work but I have plans for a sequel. So far they're just plans, though.  
> If you're Supernatual fan and you haven't seen Penny Dreadful, get on it. It's a Victorian England period horror series on Showtime.


End file.
